Twisted Tale
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Everyone knows that Hagrid loves creatures. But when a mysterious beast begins Petrifying the Muggleborn students, his devotion to Aragog might have disastrous consequences.


**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for the QLFC and Hogwarts.**

 **Chaser 2: (movie) The Next Karate Kid (in the movie, the main character sneakily takes care of a falcon, but eventually gets caught, which is what I took inspiration from.)**

 **Additional prompts:**

 **(Word) Limitless**

 **(Object) letter**

 **(Quote) "It's the honest ones you want to watch out for." —Pirates of the Caribbean**

 **Assignment 2: Geography Task 6: Write about a story that gets exaggerated over time.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Word Count: 2523**

 **Enjoy!**

Rubeus Hagrid stumbled over a protruding tree root as he made his way through the Forbidden Forest. The waning moon hung high in the sky, casting just enough light for the young Gryffindor to navigate through the thick cluster of trees. His dark, curly hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, but his exhaustion didn't deter him— he was going to see his egg. It would hatch soon, he knew. A thrill of excitement coursed through him. The traveler who had given it to him hadn't known what it was, but Hagrid couldn't wait to find out.

At long last, he stumbled upon the small clearing where he had hidden the egg. His large hands ran over the grassy ground eagerly, searching, searching— there! His fingers found the smooth, delicate shell of the egg. It was about the size of his fist, and a deep purple in color—seemingly unremarkable, but the half-giant had always been good at seeing the exceptional in ordinary things.

He cradled it to his chest, smiling fondly at it. He'd had a fascination with magical beasts ever since he was a young boy, inspired by his father's love of all creatures.

An aching pang resonated deep within the young wizard. His father had died the previous year, leaving a gaping hole in Hagrid's heart. Since then, he had been placed in a Muggle orphanage, and though Hagrid got on with the other boys there, no one could replace his father.

Growing up, Hagrid had never been lonely. For the first three years of his life, he'd been loved by both his parents; when his mother Fridwulfa had left, his father had stayed a constant in his life. He happily recalled the times when he and his father would play catch, or when he'd have a bit of a tantrum and place his uncommonly short father on top of the dresser—how his dad had laughed! Being abnormally large hadn't ever seemed like an issue; it was normal in their household. Hagrid recalled dark, sparkling eyes, filled with mirth; a soft, round face, always alight with happiness and pride; a soft, deep voice that called out his name affectionately. It had taken a long time, but he had finally accepted the fact that he wouldn't see those things anymore, that his father truly was buried in the ground. Tears sprung to his eyes just thinking about it.

Perhaps that was why he had such a tender spot for his egg—no creature should have to wake up to being alone.

His calloused fingers ran over a snag in the eggshell, and excitement filled him, chasing away the worst of his sadness. The egg was beginning to hatch!

Just as soon as the thought had come, another worry took its place; if he left the egg out here, it might hatch alone, scared. It could run off, and it would most certainly die if left on its own. Well, there was only one thing for it, really. He'd have to hide it in his dorm.

* * *

It had been a week since the egg had hatched. After much late-night studying, he discovered what species it was—an Acromantula.

He named it Aragog.

He soon realized that Aragog wouldn't be able to stay in the dorm; there wasn't really a good place to hide the large spider, and he doubted that his dorm mates would be understanding if they accidentally stumbled across him. One of them had a severe case of arachnophobia.

A broom cupboard in the dungeons it was, then.

Every morning and every evening, Hagrid would go down while the corridors of Hogwarts were mostly empty and feed Aragog scraps from his meals. When he discovered that his new friend was carnivorous, sausage became a fast favorite.

What he hadn't thought about was how suspicious his behavior would seem to others.

"Hagrid," a girl in his Charms class called out to him, alarmed. "What's wrong with your hand?"

Hagrid glanced down at his clumsily bandaged hand, where the tips of his purple fingers could be seen. Little Aragog was already developing his poison and had accidentally nipped him the previous night. Now, he couldn't exactly say all that to his classmate. Aragog would be viewed as a dangerous creature; they'd take him somewhere far away, where there'd be no one to take care of him.

"Oh, er," Hagrid stuttered, his mind scrambling to find a believable excuse. "I was jus' out by the forest the other night, doin' some—erm—Herbology. An' a, erm, bug came along an' bit me."

She looked horrified. "There are bugs that can do that here? Didn't you go to the Hospital Wing?"

Hagrid shook his head hurriedly. "No, 'course not. It doesn't hurt all that much."

She seemed suddenly impressed, and discomfort began settling in his stomach. "That's really brave of you."

He wasn't sure not seeking medical attention was brave—it seemed a bit stupid, really—but the girl had already flounced off to recount the story to her friend.

* * *

The first attack occurred the next day. A third-year Ravenclaw, found statue-like on the floor, his terror frozen on his face.

The teachers weren't answering the students' questions, so naturally, the students came up with their own explanations. First, the monster was some sort of horrible bird, and the Petrified boy had caught sight of it through the window he'd been found next to. Then a Hufflepuff was found outside of the Potions classroom, and there were no windows near her. The monster must be in the castle.

The rumors grew, and with them, people's panic. According to a fifth-year Ravenclaw, the monster was smaller than a thumbnail, and impossible to ward away. A first-year Gryffindor insisted that she had caught a glimpse of it, and that it was the size of a sphinx, with large, glowing eyes. Some Hufflepuffs were sure that it could fly, and only had to touch their victims to Petrify them. In the next two weeks, those same students would renounce their former claims and repeatedly change their stories.

The only thing that could match the number of rumors circling about Slytherin's monster was the Heir of Slytherin themself. They knew from the messages that the Heir must be a student, and everyone had a theory of who it was. Slytherins were often treated with hostility, and everyone was wary of their classmates. A Ravenclaw whose sister had been Petrified was particularly outspoken on his theories of who was responsible. The speculations got more outlandish every day, and it was impossible to keep up with who was the current suspect of being the Heir of Slytherin.

Hagrid himself was afraid, but he still snuck out to feed and care for Aragog. Soon enough, the young spider had tripled in size, and Hagrid couldn't have been prouder.

One evening, Hagrid was walking down to visit Aragog, a bulge in his cloak even he thought was suspicious. His dark eyes twinkled as he hummed softly to himself, happy as always to see the little creature he was raising.

That was the first day he ran into Tom.

Slytherin prefect, calculating and fiercely intelligent, he was not someone a person doing something illegal wanted to run into. So when Hagrid first heard the older boy's quiet, almost kind, "Where are you going, Hagrid?" he began to get very nervous.

He turned around, desperately trying to mask his worry. "Hullo, Tom. Er, I was jus' goin' down to the dungeons for, er… me books. I left em down there."

A single dark eyebrow rose steadily up in unmasked disbelief. "Really, Hagrid? Are you sure you're not going… somewhere else?"

Hagrid chuckled uncomfortably. "'Course I am, Tom. I wouldn't lie to ya."

Tom's eyes flashed dangerously when Hagrid said his name, and a feeling of foreboding washed over the half-giant. Tom's haughty face was tilted to the side as if in curiosity, but Hagrid had a horrible feeling that something much more sinister was going on in the Slytherin's mind. Tom adjusted his sleeves as he said, "Be careful, Hagrid. These are dark times. The teachers are on the lookout for the Heir of Slytherin."

Hagrid swallowed thickly, the mere mention of the controller of the monster on the loose putting him on edge. But Tom wasn't finished.

"I don't think you're lying, Hagrid. But to anyone else—well, you know what they say." Tom leaned forwards, a malice that stole Hagrid's breath away dancing in his eyes. "It's the honest ones you have to watch out for. After all, _they're_ who everyone's most likely to believe."

Hagrid's hands were shaking. "I'm not—I'm not Slytherin's—"

A small smile crept onto Tom's face. "I believe you. Until, of course, you give me proof that I shouldn't."

With those words, the older boy walked away, leaving Hagrid hoping that no one else would see his behavior as suspicious. After all, Aragog wasn't capable of Petrifying people. If discovered, he wouldn't really be considered Slytherin's monster—which would make Hagrid his heir—would he?

* * *

"No, no—the monster can see through walls! That's what I heard."

"Well, it's not what I heard. I was told that it can turn invisible, but can only strike one person at a time—that's why every victim has been alone."

The rumors were everywhere, but one even the teachers reinforced was that there was safety in numbers. This wasn't a problem when he went to classes, but it was proving difficult to slip off on his own to take care of Aragog. He was forced to begin sneaking out at night, which was a reckless thing to do, but he couldn't stand to think of little Aragog out there all alone, defenseless, while a real beast roamed the castle.

Aragog had been getting restless lately. Hagrid knew that the cupboard wasn't the ideal place for him to live, but the spider's anxiety was caused by something else, the third year knew. What that was, he didn't know.

As he made his way down to Charms, he caught the people around him whispering once again about the monster. _Breathes fire, poisonous teeth, the size of a dragon, slimmer than an earthworm,_ and other phrases were thrown around. The next Petrified victim was found near the dungeons, a horrible message written in blood on the walls, promising death to those with lesser blood.

The fear that had been instilled in him since the first Petrification incident increased tenfold. He'd have to consider moving Aragog into the forest soon. Though it broke his heart, the young Acromantula had fully developed its defense mechanisms; Hagrid couldn't coddle him forever.

* * *

Hagrid sat miserably against the wall three weeks later, silently chastising himself for his stupidity. He shouldn't have held on to Aragog for so long—he'd known the Acromantula was ready to be on his own. Maybe the problem had been that Hagrid himself hadn't quite been prepared to be alone again.

Well, now he certainly wasn't alone. He had the icy stares and biting words of his peers to keep him company.

"Did you hear? Hagrid—Rubeus Hagrid—is the Heir of Slytherin!"

"Are you sure? He's so _nice._ "

"Yes, I heard that Riddle boy talking about it. I wonder what he had against poor Myrtle?"

"I heard that she corrected him in class and he just couldn't stand it."

"No, she walked in on him and the monster, so he killed her before she could alert the teachers. It's a good thing Tom Riddle was around."

"Well, I'm not surprised it was Hagrid. He always did have an unhealthy fascination with dangerous things. I hope he's expelled; it'll be safer for all of us!"

He had heard all these things and more as he had made his way to the entrance of the headmaster's office. As he sat there waiting for the teachers to come down and announce his sentence, Hagrid couldn't help but feel ashamed. His dad had been so proud when he had received his Hogwarts letter. Nothing had meant more to Hagrid than pleasing his dad. He knew that if his father was here now, it would not have been pride shining in his eyes.

From the pocket of his robes Hagrid withdrew a tattered scrap of parchment. With shaking fingers, he carefully unfolded it. Eyes watering, he read the letter, taking in the slightly sloppy scrawl of his father; this was the last letter he'd ever sent to his son.

As he read, certain phrases stood out to him. _I'm proud of you. My brave, kind boy. I miss you. Love, Dad._

A single tear rolled down Hagrid's cheek. _I miss you too, Dad,_ he thought. _I'm sorry._

The entrance to the headmaster's staircase slid open. Ministry officials and his professors filed out, none of them looking happy. Hagrid received a few shifty looks as they all walked past him. Finally his Transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore, stopped in front of him, his blue eyes missing their twinkle. The older man sighed softly.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid. I'm afraid you've been expelled." He truly did look sorry. It was clear from the look on his face that he'd lost an argument in the half-giant's favor. The professor reached into his cloak and pulled out the broken halves of his wand. "I did, however, manage to save this for you."

Hagrid took the pieces of his wand, and tried not to think that he was holding his old life in his hands. His stomach knotted unpleasantly, and he feared he might be sick. It had only just occurred to him that he wouldn't be allowed back at Hogwarts. He'd always loved the castle, had always loved the magic. The thought of being banned from it was enough to rattle his composure. His shoulders shook from the effort not to sob. Now that he couldn't attend Hogwarts, now that his wand was destroyed—how was he supposed to live? He wouldn't be able to attend another wizarding school, and it was too late to begin Muggle schooling. He didn't know what was in store for him. There were no available paths that he could see. His future has dimmed, and he felt completely, hopelessly lost.

He looked up when he felt a hand gently grasp his shoulder. From inside his auburn beard, a soft smile graced the teacher's lips. "I did, however, manage to convince Professor Dippet to let you stay here."

Warmth surged through Hagrid's heart. He almost didn't dare believed the deputy headmaster's words. "Here—here a' Hogwarts, sir?"

Dumbledore helped the ex-third-year to his feet. "Yes, Hagrid. Here at Hogwarts, as gamekeeper. I'm sure Ogg would be very glad to have an assistant."

Hagrid's heart was swelling. Never before had he felt such gratitude towards his favorite teacher. "Thank you, sir! I won' let you down, Professor."

Dumbledore patted his old student's shoulder. "I know you won't," he said softly. "I have faith in you."

Hagrid swore in that moment to never let the other man down. He'd already let his father down.

This time, it'd be different.


End file.
